"… along with the fervent wish that Shelob may catch them and eat them as they enter the Dark Lord’s land, or that the faces in the Marsh of the Dead will first hypnotize them and then drive them mad by quoting Cleanth Brooks to them eternally in mud-choked voices, or that the Dark Lord himself will take them up to his Tower forever or cast them into the Cracks of Doom, where crocodiles of living obsidian wait to crunch up their bodies and silence their quacking, droning voices forever.
And if they avoid all that, I hope they catch poison oak."